


j'veux mourir malheureux

by Phoenixgriffin260



Category: Ghosts (TV 2019)
Genre: Aftermath, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death, Drowning, Fan Characters, French Characters, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Murder, Not Angst but Not Angst Free, Not Beta Read, One-Sided Attraction, Possibly Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-10-30 05:46:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20809538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenixgriffin260/pseuds/Phoenixgriffin260
Summary: "I want to die unhappy; that way I have no regrets about life."Calix had hummed it under his breath, but now, looking back, Thomas gave a dull laugh.His friend predicted both their deaths.





	j'veux mourir malheureux

Breathe. 

(Or don't).

Breathe. 

(You'll die anyway). 

Cold. Rushing. _Choking. Wet._ _**Burning. Calm.**_

Struggles do nothing, he realises, too late. His thoughts slip. Calm. Warm. 

Not right. 

He gasps, throat clenching on both nothingness and something. Water? Not water. Not air. Calix reaches for his throat, wincing. 

"Oh, thank god." A breathy voice says, and its one he remembers, but he can't help the jolt. "I thought you were going to pass on. The others say the experience is terrible." 

He blinks, folding his legs. "Je suis désolé?*"

Thomas raises an eyebrow, kneeling down beside the black-haired frenchman- he raises his hands, but hesitates, lowering them back onto his knees with a faint huff. "How do I put this lightly?" (He wants to do something rash. Hold him, maybe, but it seems too sudden. Everything is too sudden).

Calix cracks a smile, running his hand through his water-logged hair with a wrinkle of his nose. "I'll assume you can't, Poetton." 

He gives a dull smile. "Not currently, at least," he says, before clearing his throat- not that it mattered, given how the ghostly world (Limbo, he had named it) worked. "To put it simply, you're... Not alive. Dead, one should use." 

Another blink, and the shuffle of clothing. "So I didn't pass on." 

"..No," He sighs. " In a way, you did- but not fully. " Thomas stands, wiping his trousers down- a fruitless endevour. 

There's a shaky laugh, and the poet has to steel himself against fussing over Calix (something he should have done more of when alive, perhaps; he knows the frenchman did enough of it to him). 

"I- I'm dead," he mutters, glancing back towards the lake- _and his body-_ with a stifled cough as water dribbles down the side of his mouth (like a single tear). 

Thomas winces. 

"I wasn't expecting an afterlife like this," Calix says, wiping his sleeve as water drips, drips, down over his lips- sometimes, drops are bloody and other times not.

(It makes Thomas's skin crawl either way, knowing that what killed Calix was going to stay there forever- at least with the others, and himself, it was simply the wound or the absense of one). 

"Would you like to meet the others instead?" The poet asks, low, hovering beside the actor in blue, hand ever so precariously by the other mans'. 

He shrugs, eyes watery (and the sides of his mouth damp) as he gives a small, forced smile. "Okay, Poetton." (Thomas gave a low keen; a muffled, sad noise. He hated to see him like this, and felt even worse that he had caused this). 

**Author's Note:**

> Je suis désolé? = i'm sorry?


End file.
